The house had never felt so heavy. Even though the sun poured through the windows, its warmth felt stolen, filtered through a haze of fear and anticipation. Marga clung to me, small hands tight around my wrists, eyes wide and unblinking. I could feel every tremor in her body, every fragile heartbeat, and I pressed her closer, willing my presence to be enough.

“Breathe with me, baby,” I whispered, rocking her gently. “In… and out. In… and out. You’re safe. Mama’s right ...